The Second Auditions
by blahstupidblahugh
Summary: My take on the new characters of season two during their auditions and after. Sam, Kurt's future boyfriend, Evans, Mercedes' future boyfriend, Faith, the Christian fundamentalist, and Lyra Sunshine , the Filipino exchange student, but mostly Sam/Kurt.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: The Second Auditions **

**Rating: T for sexual humor**

**Summary: After hearing of the new characters that are coming to Glee in season two I wanted to write a long fic about them but settled on a drabble-like oneshot instead. I might continue though because I really love Sam/Kurt, haha.**

**Chris Colfer claimed Kurt's boyfriend's name would be Sam.**

**For Faith, Lyra, and Evans I just made those names up, seeing as they are yet to be named.**

**I enjoy writing Faith/Kurt interaction—apparently she will be against homosexuality, but I think in the end she could end up close friends with Kurt and Mercedes. Maybe. **

**I didn't include Quinn's future boyfriend because I just heard about him~ Whoops. But I think he could join later on under Sam's infulence. **

**Ah, Sam, I love my version of you. Watch you be nothing like this in the real show. **

**Sorry if there's typos, I didn't beta. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters. If I did, Kurt would have more solos. **

–

**Glee Club Auditions. **

Those three bolded words on the green piece of paper thumb-tacked to the school hallways' bulletin board mean nothing to most who pass by on there way to various classes and electives, but for those whose names are scribbled under those three bolded words they mean a sense of escaping reality—a home, in a sense. Some of the names are new and unknown to us—Lyra, Evans, Faith—, some old and familiarr—Mercedes, Kurt, Artie, Tina, Mike, Matt, Santana, Brittany, Puck, Quinn, Finn, and, of course, Rachel with a star.

Glee Auditions start now.

The auditorium's seats aren't full in the least.

The former member of last year's glee club get up and have their go—it's easy for them, it comes natural. They know they'll all make it—it's not New Directions without all of them. You can't turn down family.

One of the new auditioners leans back in her seat, gazing around at the others. She's the new Filipino foreign-exchange student. Mr. Schuester calls out "Lyra Belano." She makes her way up to stage and Rachel watches unimpressed. She states the song she chose for her audition—it's Celine Dion's "Because You Loved Me." Rachel smirks with confidence. It takes talent to master Dion, talent that she doubts some random girl auditioning for _glee club_ could pull off—besides herself, of course. But others lacked Rachel Berry's raw talent.

And then Lyra starts and a pain—very similar to PMS, she duly notes—forms in Rachel's stomach, because Lyra is not good, or great, but Rachel Worthy. The Filipino girl finishes and steps down from the stage, leaving the others to stare in awe. The silence is interrupted when the auditorium's door is flung open and a short girl with curly white-blonde hair dashes in, flinging herself into the nearest front row seat next to Kurt Hummel.

"Hi," she says—is that Southern accent he detects?—giving a little wave in the form of a twitch of the wrist. "Have auditions started?"

"Girl, they're practically _over_," Mercedes, who is sitting on the other side of Kurt, answers for him.

The blonde girl gives a little, "oh."

"But there's still time," Kurt says, turning his face to look over a girl. She's pretty (he guesses), with a nice set of doe eyes and unblemished skin. She wears a frilly white top, tucked into a pale pink skirt. "He's the last one"—Kurt gestures to the kid on stage named Evans Parker whose singing R&B—"you're next, I assume."

"Oh, goody,." The girl smiles and clutches at a small silver thing in her hands.

Mercedes eyes in and asks, "What's that?"

"A good luck charm?" Kurt guesses.

The girl gives the two a sweet grin. "Oh, no silly!" She holds it up—a miniature replica of Jesus on the Cross. "It's my own little Jesus Christ, my way of speaking with him, knowing he's always with me." She shakes her head as if about to cry in happiness. "He has yet to not answer any of my prayers."

Kurt mouthes the word "oh" and he and Mercedes give each other side glances that say, "This girl in on crack."

"Faith Sanderson!" Mr. Schuester calls.

"Ee!" the girl chirps, "that's me!" She leans in towards Kurt. "Let's just hope He answers this one as well."

Kurt nods and tries to pitch a quiet laugh for lack of a better answer.

The girl—Faith, he supposes—kissed his Jesus figurine and made her way up to the stage at a mild frolic. "Hi there, my name is Faith Sanderson and I will be singing 'Jesus Take the Wheel' by Carrie Underwood. I would like to dedicate this song to my Lord and Savior—"

"Faith, Faith," Mr. Schuester interrupts. "No need for a big speech. Just sing."

Once the singing commences, Mercedes whispers, "She's good" in a flat tone.

"Yeah," Kurt muses, "Rachel might have a lot of competition this year. Look at her. She's seething in her frilly toddler socks."

Mercedes _mmmmhm_ed in agreement.

When she's done, Faith scampers down from the stage and plops down by Kurt and Mercedes again, biting her lip with excitement. "How'd I do?" She flashes her white teeth. "Don't mean to toot my own horn, but I think I did great."

"I think you did fabulous up there," Kurt says.

"Yeah, girl, you were working that, uh . . . country," Mercedes adds.

Faith put a hand to her heart and tilted her head. "Aww, _thank you_, guys. People here in Lima are just_ so_ sweet."

"Sure," Kurt says sarcastically with an unamused expression. "They're darling."

Faith looks like she's about to go on another escapade about how _wonderful _and truly _Christianly _everyone is here when Mr. Schue gets up and faces the students.

"Well, it looks like that's it. I have to say everyone did an excellent job today and I hope to see you all a part of glee club this year, especially the new faces we have here today. Now, without farther adieu, you can be dismissed—" The auditorium's door suddenly burst open for the second time with yet another blond—a boy this time. He was tall—not Finn-tall, but tall to say the least—and good-looking with a long nose and a tossed mop of wavy hair. He sports a McKinnely High red football jacket, Kurt notes, and a confused expression.

"Um," he says.

"Hey, Sam!" Finn greets, giving a wave.

Sam still looks confused.

"Hey, uh, Sam," Mr. Schue says, clearly not knowing who Sam is.

Sam "ums" again. "Well, uh, I saw Finn, Puck, and the guys"—he motions to Mike and Matt who tend to not be important—"come in here and I thought—well, I _assumed_—football tryouts were being held here, but know that I think about it—that doesn't really . . . make . . . sense." He pauses, looking awkward. "I, um, will just be going—glee club, really, guys—never mind, goodbye. Have a greet time singing—"

"Sam."

"—and things. I don't really know what you people do in here so—"

"Sam."

"Yes, Mr.—oh, geez, blank out, I know you're the Spanish teacher."

"Mr. Schuester. Would you like to audition for glee club?"

"Why no, Mr. Schuester, I would not. I—I, well, I can't sing. To be in glee club I here you have to sing—"

"You can sing, man," Finn puts in. "I've heard you I the locker room showers."

"—and be gay." Sam pauses again to stare at his fellow team mate. "Dude, that's kinda creepy."

"Well, you can," Finn mumbles, slightly embarrassed.

"I think the question is," Mr. Shuester announces to the class, "if Sam can apparently sing, why does choose to lie about it?"

"Actually, I think the question is why is Finn stalking me in the showers," Sam says offhandedly.

"C'mon, Sam. Get up there a sing," Mr. Schue urges.

"Um, no, really, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because—what do you mean why?—_glee club_!" Sam sputters, glancing over to his teammates. "The guys think you guys are in a gay foursome. I'm serious, man. I can't do this. I can't be the five to the fivesome."

Kurt rolls his eyes. "Typical jock. They act all tough and macho, but when it comes to something like this like act like squeamish little girls."

Sam gives Kurt a look that says, "screw you."

Kurt shrugs.

Mr. Schuester sighs. "Just sing a song."

"But I don't want to!" the blond jock protests.

"Then don't."

There's an awkward silence. Sam bits his lip and switches his weight from one foot to the other.

"Fine."

The club looks up at him in question.

"What?" Mr. Schuester says.

"I said fine! Jesus Christ," Sam huffs.

"Don't say God's name in vain!" they hear Faith exclaim. Sam ignores this and clambers onto stage. They wait for him to sing.

"I don't know any songs," he admits.

"You have to know at least _one _song," the teacher chides.

"You sing the Dixie Chicks in the shower," Finn says and Puck snorts in laughter.

"I do _not _sing the Dixie Chicks in the shower. I don't even know what that is—it sounds like a porno. Please, please, stop listening to me in the shower, it's very discomforting—"

"Sam." Mr. Schue teacher is losing his patience.

"_What? _I don't know any songs, okay? I mean, I guess I know _some_." Sam's scratches his head. "My mom—my mom is a huge fan of Jeff Buckley. Don't ask why, she just is. She plays him like a ritual. Enough for the lyrics to morbidly implant my brain. I can be cliché and sing 'Hallelujah'—I think. And I mean it, I _think_ I can."

This is suits Mr. Schuester fine. He shrugs and tells Sam to get on with it.

"Okay, um—okay. This is going sound horrible. Jesus Chri—Christmas—alright, here I go."

And he went and the rest listened—they were surprised (except Finn) because he was actually really _good_. He wasn't any male Rachel, but he was pretty decent, if not _very_ decent. In the end they clap and Finn says, "I told you so."

"That was great, Sam," Mr. Schue complimented. "See."

Sam looks embarrassed. "It was _alright_, I guess."

The teacher turns to the students and Sam hops off stage and sat next to Mike and Matt. "And that ends our auditions today unless someone else happens to randomly make their presence known—no one? Okay. It's over. You are all dismissed."

Lyra and Evans leave filling sure of themselves.

Faith thanks God for answering her prayers.

Sam makes a mental list of how to prepare for being slushied.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: The Second Auditions **

**Rating: T for sexual humor**

**Summary: After hearing of the new characters that are coming to Glee in season two I wanted to write a long fic about them but settled on a drabble-like oneshot instead. I might continue though because I really love Sam/Kurt, haha.**

**Chris Colfer claimed Kurt's boyfriend's name would be Sam.**

**For Faith, Lyra, and Evans I just made those names up, seeing as they are yet to be named.**

**I enjoy writing Faith/Kurt interaction—apparently she will be against homosexuality, but I think in the end she could end up close friends with Kurt and Mercedes. Maybe. **

**I didn't include Quinn's future boyfriend because I just heard about him~ Whoops. But I think he could join later on under Sam's influence. **

**Ah, Sam, I love my version of you. Watch you be nothing like this in the real show. **

**Sorry if there's typos, I didn't beta. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters. If I did, Kurt would have more solos. **

**Glee Club Members**

Rachel stars at Sam as he tries to erase his name from the list posted on the school hallway's bulletin board announcing who made it into glee club.

"You know that list is typed, therefor ink, therefor impossible to erase with an eraser shaped like a mutated cat," she states from behind him, making his jolt in surprise.

He looks at her with a scowl. "It's Batman and shut up, you . . . person."

"Rachel Barbara Berry."

"Idon'tcare," the blond says quickly and turns back to glare at the list.

"You're awfully rude, you know. Luckily that makes up in your vocal talent. I think you could be a promising addition to New Directions."

"Shut up, Barbara." Sam starts to try to stab his name with his Batman eraser. "Nude Erections. What the hell. What the hell is Nude Erections? Some type of porno?"

"Why do you relate everything to pornography?" Rachel questions, not expecting an answer. "No, it's New—Directions—he name of our glee club."

"Lame. Lame. So lame." He holds out a hand. Rachel takes it. "Let go of my hand, woman. I want a pen. Give me a pen."

Rachel takes her hand away and frowns, reaching into her backpack. She pulls out a gold pen and hands it to him. "You need to learn manners."

Sam ignores her for the moment and scribbles over his name. "You need to learn that gold ink doesn't cover up black ink."

"I have a Sharpie!" someone proclaims in a high-pitched voice.

"Sweet God almighty," Sam mutters.

"Samuel!" It's Faith. She's all giggly. "What did I tell you about saying God's name in vain?"

"What did I tell you about being too giggly," Sam counters, taking the Sharpie and scratching his name out. "Sweet freedom."

"You never told me that, silly goat!" Faith does a limp-wrist motion. "Why are you doing that?"

"Because I don't want everyone to know I'm in Nude Erections."

"New Directions," Rachel corrects.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a very annoying person?" Sam says.

"And you don't want _everyone _to know you're in glee club. But glee club knows. Are we not somebodies?"

"You make my brain hurt and I'm generally smart for jock standards."

"Which is still far below the average's I.Q. level."

"Yeah, well, you need a nose job."

"Oh my," Faith says slowly. "Let's not fight, y'all!" She gasps. "Oh, why looks down yonder! Here comes that nice Kirk boy and that plump colored girl! Hello there, friends!"

"And this is where I take my leave, ladies," Sam says with fake chivalry and a quick bow. "I can't be seen with anymore of you people." He waves at them all. "Bye Barbara, Hope, Gay Kid, Arthea!"

"What was that all about?" Kurt asks as Sam scampers away.

"He is apparently embarrassed to be a member of glee club," Rachel explains.

"I wouldn't say that!" Faith puts in optimistically.

"Oh, I can see that," Kurt drawls. "Petty popular kid afraid of loosing his precious ranking in the social latter."

"Fear of becoming a loser," Mercedes continues.

"Typical Survival of the Fittest Syndrome," Kurt finishes.

Faith squeals, earning confused looks from the other three.

"It is _sooo_ cute how y'all two are so in synch!" she pips and takes the chance to grab a hand from each of the best friends. "You know, us three have the same first period—we should totally go together! Sorry, Rachel, I don't think you're in our class."

"I'm not," Rachel says. "Now if you'll excuse me I have my own—AP honors—class to get to."

"Bye-bye," Faith says, waving the brunette off. Once Rachel is gone she tugs on Kurt and Mercedes' hands. "Now time for us to head to Calculous! Oh I have a feeling we're going to be great friends Kirk and—oh, um, I didn't catch you're name," she says to Mercedes.

"Apparently not mine either," Kurt states. "Kurt with a _urt_, not an _irk_."

"Oh! Well, aren't I blushing!" Faith chuckles daintly. "Okay, so Kurt aaaand. . ."

"Mercedes."

"Mercedes! Beautiful! Is that or is that not a car? I think it's a car. Spanish, I believe."

"German actually," Mercedes corrects, raising an eyebrow.

Faith gasps as if awe stuck. "Aww, what destiny! I do believe have German in me! See, even though I am white and you are a colored girl we share so much in common!"

"Uh, yeah . . ." Mercedes trails off to give Kurt a look which he returns ten fold. "Can we go now!"

"Sure thing!"

Faith loops their arms together and then they're off to see the wizard.

**A/N: So I decided to continue it, ye gods. [/facepalms]**

**Sorry that this is so short (and probably full of typos!) I'm leaving for the beach tomorrow and wanted to go ahead and post it. I have to get up early tomorrow so I couldn't make it longer. Sorry! I promise I'll make up with a long chapter next time. **

** If you haven't noticed this sorry will mostly focus on Sam/Kurt (like how they haven't interacted like _at all _yet [/facepalms again]) with a little Faith and Rachel and Finn thrown in there. But the others will get some screen time too. :) **


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: The Second Auditions **

**Rating: T for sexual humor and language**

**Summary: After hearing of the new characters that are coming to Glee in season two I wanted to write a long fic about them but settled on a drabble-like oneshot instead. I might continue though because I really love Sam/Kurt, haha.**

**Chris Colfer claimed Kurt's boyfriend's name would be Sam.**

**For Faith, Lyra, and Evans I just made those names up, seeing as they are yet to be named.**

**I enjoy writing Faith/Kurt interaction—apparently she will be against homosexuality, but I think in the end she could end up close friends with Kurt and Mercedes. Maybe. **

**I didn't include Quinn's future boyfriend because I just heard about him~ Whoops. But I think he could join later on under Sam's influence. **

**Ah, Sam, I love my version of you. Watch you be nothing like this in the real show. **

**Sorry if there's typos, I didn't beta. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee or the characters. If I did, Kurt would have more solos. **

_A/N: Thank you guys for all the comments! It really means a lot and keeps me wanting to write. :) _

_Also, SAM'S ACTOR HAS BEEN ANNOUNCED. Chord Overstreet. And he is BLOND. Score. _

_.__ He looks pretty good, in my opinion._

_Also, Ryan Murphy said Kurt would help Sam out with his sexuality but in other spoilers it says he will be out of the closet . . . Um. You probably have noticed by now that I'm going with the first and Sam is not exactly "out and proud." Whoops. _

_ So anyway, enough of my blabbering, I'm not Sam. (I'm sorry, this makes no sense to your right now, haha.)_

**Football and Cheerio Practice Start Today**

"I'm not fond of evolution, you know," Faith blabbers to Kurt who sighs and doodles an inappropriate picture of Rachel in his notebook. He stops, feeling vaguely like Quinn Fabray. "I mean, any sensible Christian knows it just isn't right."

"Yes, I'd rather not think about being a monkey." He glances over at Mercedes, loathing the assigned seating arrangements. He then realizes she is too busy working on her Calculous handout because_ this is Calculous_, he remembers. "Faith, maybe we should focus on the subject at hand and save the science for science class."

"Oh," she quips. "You are absolutely right, Kurt! Way to stay on task. Here I am distracting you from your studies like buggy bee. What kind of friend am I if—"

"Faith, please."

Faith stays quiet for a couple of very short seconds.

"So, Kurt—"

Kurt slaps is pencil down and leans back in his chair, admitting defeat.

"Why do you keep staring at that girl up there? Omigosh, do you _like _her?" Faith gushes excitedly.

"Who? Mercedes?" Kurt questions with confusion.

"No, silly! Wait, you like Mercedes?"

"No!"

She looks relieved. "Oh, thank goodness. I'm not fond of interracial relationships either."

"That is _not _why," Kurt counters.

"Then who do you like?" Her voice reminds him of cotton candy.

"Who says I like anyone."

"You were staring at that blond girl up there so longingly earlier." Faith smiles and shakes her head. "It—was—_adorable_."

Kurt stares at her and turns to see Brittany is by the person he _has_ been staring—_looking_—at every now and then. "Faith, I do not like Brittany."

"So that's her name. And if not her _who_?"

"Everyone has a clue, I should think," Kurt says. "It's all rather anticlimactic."

"Oh, but Kurt, I'm new to Lima! And I love it and it's people, but I hardly know anything about it or them." Faith leans into Kurt, tapping his nose. Kurt wonders if the teacher is either deaf or blind or both. "_Tellmetellmetellme._"

"Finn Hudson," Kurt admits quietly, looking away with a noticeable blush.

Faith is quiet for a moment.

Kurt feels anxious.

Faith finally tsks. "Parents these days. At _least_ name your daughter something more feminine than _Finn_!" she scoffs. Kurt quirks an eyebrow and she continues, "Is she in here?"

"I think you're mistaken," Kurt says. "Finn is male."

Faith stares at him once again and then picks up her own pencil, turning her attention to the handout in front of her. She's silent.

"Faith?" Kurt asks weakly.

"We should get started. Class is almost over."

* * *

"Okay, so our project is to research the themes in the vastly read and mass marketed controversial novel _To Kill a Mocking Bird _and construct a poster board. Considering you most likely did not complete your summer reading I will take it upon myself to fill the spot as director in this assignment." Rachel finishes and looks at Sam expectantly.

"I can't believe I'm paired with you," is his answer.

"That's your response? How mature." Rachel blinks, frowning. "We should discuss a schedule that will correspond with both of our daily lives."

"So you should be free—let me think. . ." He pretends to think. "All the time."

"I'll have you know that I have my schedule is near to _full. _If I'm not singing, I'm dancing, if I'm not dancing, I'm exercising, if I'm not exercising, I'm practicing my signature for when I become a Broadway star. You name it, Rachel Barbara Berry does it."

"Like porn."

"No, Sam." She sighs. "Okay, when do you have football practice?"

"Wednesdays and Thursdays."

"Okay and we can't do it on Glee Club days either. What about Sunday?"

"Can we not do this in the hallway? I don't want to be in the line of fire for when someone slushies you," Sam reasons, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, a thing he did when he was nervous.

"Sam, if you just answer the question then this will all go by faster."

"Okay, yes, I'm free on Sunday. I mean, after church, for at . . . eleven. No, noon. Noon."

"Good. We could have lunch first—"

"I am not eating lunch with you."

"—my dads can fix something. They make a could cooking pair when it comes to meals."

"Wait, 'dads?' Barbara—"

"So it's settled. Come to my house at noon. Don't eat before, we'll be glad to feed you. My dads make great Jewish dishes," Rachel concludes.

"Barbara, I have_ no_ idea where your house is. Barbara—"

"Sam!" shouts a voice from behind. "Sam, duck!"

Sam has no time to duck before an ice-cold glob of slush—grape, he notes—smacks the back on his head.

"Sam!" says the voice again and Sam turns around to see Karofsky and Azimio in all their Hulk-like glory. "Sam, I told you to duck. I was aiming as Berry," Karofsky says.

Sam squinted. "Maybe some type of super human species can dodge a slushie in point o' three seconds, but I being merely a human cannot. There_for _resulting in this. I hate you two—I hate you so, so much. Okay, I don't, please, don't slushie me again."

"I have no idea what you just said," says Karofsky.

"Look, Sam," Azimio states, "stop hangin' around with these _glee_ punks"—he gives Rachel a nasty glance—"our we'll be having a _special _talk with you later."

"Of course, of course—you know, I wouldn't call it _hanging out_—my, my, have you worked out, Azimio? Karofsky? Both? Both. You're looking very—very, um, chiseled? Chiseled is the word I'm looking for." Sam bites his lips.

"Whatever, Sam. Go clean up, and remember practice tomorrow. Later," Azimio says and heads down the halls.

"Later," Karofsky repeats, following close behind.

"Wow," Rachel breathes. "Even Sam the Football Player cowers understand gorilla-like stature of the puckheads."

"Barbara," Sam says just as Finn says, "Rachel."

"Oh, hey, Sam," Finn greets.

Rachel smiles. "Did you come to talk to me, Finn?"

"Actually, no, I saw you, but now I'm seeing Sam. Um, I mean, we need to go to practice and I thought we could walk together."

"How chivalrous," Sam muses.

"Um. Anyway. Sam?"

"Sam I am." The blond pauses. "Oh. Oh, okay. Yeah, I'll walk with you. Let's us go. Bye, Barbs. Barbie. Barbio—ooh, I like that one. Very Italian. Barbio the Italian Porn Star."

"Um," Finn says.

Before Rachel can protest, Sam grabs Finn's arm and pulls him down the hallway. Halfway down Finn starts with, "You're—"

"Undeniably good looking?" Sam guesses. "I know, but I promise I won't whisk Barbio into the night. She's not my type."

"Um, no. You're dripping. With slushie."

"Why, yes. Yes, I am. I think the slushie look suits me rather well." Sam stops and turns to face the taller. "Finn, oh, Finn. Teach me. Teach me how you put up with guys like that while being in g_lee club._"

Finn blinks. "Are you always this dramatic?"

"When I see it fit. So. What do you say? Can I be your protege?"

"I don't understand what you're saying."

"Dumb jock. Typical." Sam sighs. "What I mean is, I want you to be my . . . mentor of sorts. Help me keep my status. Like Santana, Brittany, Mike, and Matt—they've never been slushied. Any maybe—maybe, maybe, maybe times a trillion—if I actually like this . . . _glee_ thing. Then maybe you can help me with my voice too. And others things too. Like an allegiance. All us glee guys—you, me, Puck, Mike, Matt—we can create an allegiance against guys like Karofsky and Azimio. They're idiots. I mean, you're an idiot too, but a good type of idiot. Haha, look at me—I'm _blabbering_. So save me from the role of Blabbering Blabber Head. What do you say? What do you say, Finn?"

"I say, I don't get it what you mean. Dude, look, I don't really even know you," Finn replies and starts walk ahead again.

"Sure, you do! We had gym together in seventh grade!" Sam cries, quickening his pace to stay in step with the other.

"Sam, trust me, I can't help you."

Sam stops.

"Well, fine, then. Go. Go frolic in your precious football fields while I wipe away at my grape flavored slushie stained face, quaking in my Nike sneakers."

"Dude."

"Yes, Finn? Yes. Don't talk to me. I am a Sam scorned."

And with that Sam turns and barges into the men's restroom feeling a tad melodramatic.

* * *

"You look like a peacock," Brittany comments, blinking as she gazes at Kurt's appearance.

"Why, thank you, Brittany." Kurt is dressed in a monstrosity green feathers and a sparkling

cape.

"You look like a boy peacock who likes other boy peacocks," the ditzy Cheerio continues, twirling a strand of hair with her pinky.

"Well, Brittany, you'll be surprised to know that the male peacocks are the fancy ones and the females, they're the _drab_ ones."

"I don't know what the word 'drab' means."

Santana makes a dramatic sound—the birth child of a sigh and grunt. "Can we not just get on with it?"

"Of course," Kurt says. "Okay, we know Sue will expect a routine for the first game of the season before we even have our first Cheerio's practice, so I went ahead and planned it." He swooshes his cape back gallantly. "As proud and powerful women—and men—I thought we could go with an Amazonian theme."

"Amazonian peacocks," Brittany comment.

"I am not a peacock, Brittany. I am cloaked in Amazonian tribal dance wear."

"And we're going to have to dress like_ that._" Santana looks off-put.

"Your ladycape would tear," says Brittany.

"No, you will not _have_ to dress like this, Santana," Kurt replies, albeit sourly. "I was just wanted to get the feeling across. No, no, we will just be studying the tribal dance themes. If Mercedes were here she would say, 'it will be _fierce_.'"

"Not that I care, but where _is_ Mercedes?"

"She's sick, Santana," Kurt answers.

"So is Ellie, LaStasha, and that girl that tasted like a Big Mac when we made out. I like Big Macs," Brittany says thoughtfully.

"Brittany, you can't eat Big Macs," Santana snaps. "You'll get fat."

"Sorry."

"Sue is going to be pissed with all these people out," states Santana.

"Exactly," Kurt agrees. "That's why I've prepared a routine in attempt to woo her for the time being. Now let's get to work."

Santana has been noticing more about people since she's joined glee club. Some would say she's gone soft. Those some will get their asses kicked by her. But, yes, she does notice more. Like with Kurt. She's noticed the whole Finn thing—who hasn't?—but today she notices, despite the eagerness for his tribal dance routine, he's been looking down, not completely into it and all.

Practice is over. Santana takes Brittany's hand and leads her over to where Kurt is sitting alone on the bleachers, messing with his feather hat. Santana by him and motions for Brittany to do the same.

"You look . . . glum, Kirk," she comments.

"I do believe my name is Kurt," Kurt corrects. "And, well—"

"And it's not like I care, but Sue will and take it out on us if everyone's not completely into it and focused."

"Thanks, Santana."

It's quiet for a moment and Santana remarks, "_So_?"

"So, what?"

"_So_, what the hell is up?" She adds, "Not that I care."

Kurt sniffs. "I don't see how it's any of your business."

"It's _going _to become all of the Cheerios' business if you just don't come out with it already. C'mon. It's not that hard. It's just you and me."

"And Brittany."

"Brittany doesn't remember shit." Santana turns to her blonde friend. "Brittany, my favorite color is red." She gives Kurt a look with a quirked eyebrow and then turn back to the other girl. "Brittany, what's my favorite color?"

"Orange."

Kurt raises his eyebrows.

"Now, Kirk," Santana urges. "Spill it."

The boy exhales. "Well, Faith—"

"Gross."

"—and I were talking in first block—well, it was more like she was talking to me while I was trying to do Calculous—and she brought up the what that I was staring . . . 'longingly' at Britttany—which I _wasn't_. I was looking at . . . someone else who happened to be sitting next to her, copying her worksheet—and _did_ say that and then she thought . . . this someone was a girl and I explained that he wasn't and then it just got really, really awkward. And afterwards, I realized _I still love_ . . . this someone. It—it never went away. It's so obvious even the new girl can pick up on it—sort of."

"Kirk," Santana says. "First of all, say Finn. We all know you love Finn—you said it yourself, it's pretty damn obvious. Second of all, get over him."

"I _can't _get over him."

"Well, get over him anyway. He's not gay, Kirk. He's just not. It's not that you're ugly or anything—"

"If I were a boy I'd do you," Brittany cuts in.

"Thanks, Brittany," Kurt says.

"And it's not that Finn doesn't like you, it's just he likes girls. Not guys. Just like you _don't_ like girls."

"I know, Santana," Kurt says. "I just—I can't help—"

"There are other fish in the sea. _Gay_ fish."

"I know, Santana. I know."

"Fish without potatoes heads."

"With big fishdicks," Brittany says.

"Yes."

Kurt purses him lips and looks down. "I guess."

"You don't guess, you know." Santana takes a few seconds to consider. "Maybe I'll help you find someone. Someone gay. Someone that will make you happy and not piss Sue off with your lack of determination."

"That would be—that would be great, actually." Kurt tries pitching a smile. "Thanks, Santana."

"You're welcome." She crinkles her nose. "Now, I need to work on being a bitch again. This nice crap makes me sick."

Kurt gives a weak laugh and watches as Santana and Brittany up and head away. He glances at the football players practicing a small ways away.

He mentally checks anyone on the team off his list of Who To Date.


	4. Chapter 4

**Rating: T for language and sexual description**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did Sam played by Chord Overstreet (unf unf) would definitely be Kurt's boyfriend absolutely hands down. **

**A/N: So . . . I decided to continue. Yeah, Sam might not be Kurt's boyfriend but oh well. It's not like my version of Faith and etc are canon either. Oh, and Sam's last name is Elliot apparently. Yum. And . . . I've been attempting to read some fics with Sam in them but he tends to be a doucheberry or tool for "OMG KINN LUV!11 3 3 #" or both. Mostly both. **

**And that makes me lol.**

**It's okay, Sam, at least I love you. **

* * *

This might sound strange but he wants Barbara—formally known as Rachel Berry. It's odd. He doesn't really like her—she's annoying as hell—but she's Finn Hudson's and Finn Hudson has become his idol. This is also odd, Sam thinks, because he also thinks Finn is a First Class Doofus.

But the oddest thing of it all is that while he wants Barbara, and while he wants to be like the girl-swarmed Finn Hudson, and while he's a football player and (he considers) pretty butch as butch men go (not Karofsky-butch however), he also has a boner right now.

Erections, also known as boners, are not odd or uncommon among hormone-driven teenage boys—or the male species in general, for that matter—but getting them while naked, except for a towel around the waist, surrounded by other young men naked, except for a towel around the waist is, in Sam's opinion, is _odd_.

And not comfortable, thank you very much.

He gets up. "I'm leaving."

"Um, okay?" Finn says, looking up.

"I mean, I'm going to put my clothes on like a civil, considerate child, but after that I'm leaving."

Finn nods, confused. After all, football practice is over. "Okay."

Sam glances at him. "You helped me out."

"Huh?"

"With football. You were showing me your strategies and et cetera. Like a mentor. Like I asked."

"You didn't ask for me too—"

"I did—indirectly. Thanks. And I'll see you around—first glee meeting tomorrow? Yeah." Sam turns. "Okay. Now, I'm leaving."

He leaves and Finn feels even more confused. "Uh, bye," he says.

Sam walks down the locker room, hand covering his eyes._ Odd, odd, this is odd_, he thinks. His other hand clutches his clothes tightly as he makes his way to one of the toilet stalls, pushing it open and locking it. No one can see this little—well, not _little_, he thinks smugly—monstrosity.

He drops his towel. He stares at It and names It Neil because he refuses to call it his _penis, _because penises are awkward enough. He briefly wishes he was a girl then reconsiders because a girl doctor is as unnatural as a girl football coach.

He shudders at the thought of Coach Beiste.

Well, he can't do anything about Neil here. He quickly puts his clothes on and he follows his former statement—he leaves.

* * *

**Our first Glee Club meeting will be held today in room 216 today after school.**

When Kurt sees his best friend in the school parking lot the next morning he high-tails out of his shiny black car and makes his way towards her, waving.

"Mercedes!"

She hears him and gives a smile. "Hey, Kurt!"

Kurt stops, a bit out of breath. He's out of shape—thank God they were starting Cheerios again. "You've been gone for days. I was beginning to think you caught swine flu and keeled over."

His favorite diva chuckles and says, "Nah, just a bug. But if I die, I'll let you be the first to know."

"How reassuring."

They begin to stroll towards school. "Anything exciting happen while I was gone?"

"What in Sam Hell could happen Lima, Ohio in the span of a couple days?" Kurt sighs, shaking his head at the lack of pizazz the cow town had to offer.

"True dat," Mercedes agrees. "Speaking of Sam, how is he? And the others, I mean. The newbies."

"I thought it was obvious that I don't dare approach Sam to ask him about his daily life in fear of being slushied. Evans and Lyra, I don't have classes with at all."

Mercedes looks at Kurt expectantly. "Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what about Faith? How's she?" She laughs again. "Been chatting about all the celebrity gossip with her—y'know, JT, GaGa, Jesus?"

"Erm, no." Kurt frowns. "We haven't talked much."

"Oh. She's such a talker, though."

Kurt shrugs. "Let's—let's just get to first period. Screw the seating arrangement—I'm sitting by my BFF. Besides, I can tell Mr. Dodenhoff has a thing for emotionally-damaged gay youths."

* * *

"Alright, everyone here?" Mr. Schuester looks around the room at the members of the club. There's Brittany and Santana who chat with each other, sometimes turning in Quinn's direction to talk. Quinn sits next to Kurt, Mercedes, and Lyra, commenting every so often on their Filipino fashion talk. Artie sits awkwardly by Matt, who also feels awkward. They watch Tina and Mike sit together, hand in hand. They're dating. Apparently. Puck rolls his eyes at Finn who is listening to Rachel drone on and on about her already picked out and rehearsed songs selections. Puck then changes his attention to Sam and Evans, who he knows aren't bitten by the love bug and prone to act like love-struck pussies. Faith isn't there.

"Oh, Faith isn't here," Artie states, finally tearing his eyes away from the Tina-Mike scene.

Kurt perks up. "Though," he says as he wraps an arm around Mercedes and gives a little squeeze, "Mercedes is here, fortunately back and well on glee club's first day."

"Who's Mercedes? That black chick who belts like Arthea?" Sam asks.

"She is much more than 'that black chick who belts like Arthea,'" Kurt snaps. "But yes."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Mercedes says to Sam.

Sam asks, "Can I call you Toyota?"

"No."

". . .Mustang."

"You're pushing it, White Boy." Mercedes gives Sam a warning look and he is silenced.

"Faith isn't here," Artie repeats. "For anyone who listens to me. . . ."

"That's right," Puck says. "Where is Holy Mama?"

Before Mr. Shuester can comment, Faith arrives and announces, "I'm right here." She looks pristine and put together—her curly, blonde hair clipped back from her face, she wears a baby-blue flowery dress and a determined smile.

"Faith . . . You're late."

"I'm aware, Mr. Schuester, and I'm sure sorry, but I had to memorize my monologue and test my vocals."

The teacher and students stare at her.

Faith smiles. "This world made of the children God—modeled after Him, yes, but we do not share his upmost perfection. Humans sins. We sin everyday so we must repent everyday. If you want to bask in the holiness that is Jesus Christ, our Savior in Heaven then you must learn from your mistakes and ask for His forgiveness. Now, I'm not saying that one sin is worse than the other, but if I were to make a list"— her focus turns to Kurt alone—"homosexuality would be right under murder."

The room is quiet. Mercedes scrunches her nose, glancing at Kurt.

"Faith," Mr. Schuester starts.

"But don't worry, for there is still hope! And without farther adieu," the blond says cheerfully, "I would like to perform a song called _Jesus Will Still Be There_ by The Point of Grace." She nods in Brad's, the Piano Man, direction and he starts to play the music.

"_Things change_," she sings in a sickeningly sweet voice,

"_Plans fail_

_You look for love on a grander scale_

_Storms rise_

_Hopes fade_

_And you place your bets on another day_

_When the going gets tough_

_When the ride's too rough_

_When you're just not sure enough"_

Faith makes a spectacle that _she is singing to Kurt_ with her hands stretched out towards him as is in expecting a bear hug or something ridiculous. As if she's supportive friend.

"_Jesus will still be there_

_His love will never change_

_Sure as a steady rain_

_Jesus will still be there_

_When no one else is true_

_He'll still be loving you_

_When it looks like you've lost it all_

_And you haven't got a prayer_

_Jesus will still be there!"_

She keeps singing. The lyrics are obnoxiously religious and preachy. Everyone feels uncomfortable, especially Kurt. He looks away, gazing at the wall. He accidently locks eyes with Sam. The football player quirks an eye-brow. He seems amused, the bastard.

"_When it looks like you've lost it all_

_And you haven't got a prayer_

_Jesus will still be there!"_

This is one of those times Kurt feels like crying.

**A/N: This wasn't a very humorous chapter, sorry. :/ And please ignore spelling mistakes and grammar, this is just for fun. **

**Also, Spoilers say either Puck or Artie won't make it into Glee Club, but what is done is done in this fic. Sorry~ Ignore, ignore. It's not like they're important in this fic.**

**And this spoiler is cruel and I love it: "Looks like the Finn/Puck friendship will be back. Cory hinted that the two will join forces and team up against Finn's new rival, Sam." Just sayin'.**

**And last but not least, I don't like people hating on Sam and Chord Overstreet. At all. So don't do it in my presence (not that any of you have XD.) Even if douche!Sam fics are amusing. 'Kay, thanks, bye. **

**/end rant thing**

**Sidenote: I have a lot of Glee fanart and some pictures of Sam, Faith, and etc too on DeviantART if you want to check that out: http: / sparrowspaz. Deviantart .com/ **


	5. Chapter 5

**Rating: T for language **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. If I did Sam played by Chord Overstreet (unf unf) would definitely be Kurt's boyfriend absolutely hands down.**

**A/N: Well, I be darned, Charice's character is named "Sunshine." Suuunnnshhiiiiine~ Um, well, it's still Lyra in here. **

**You know who fits my vision of Sam like perfectly? Alex Pettyfer: http:/ www. /name/nm1641117/**

**Yum. Yum. Except Sam doesn't have a English accent. That would be just weird. **

**But Chord Overstreet, darlin', you're still my love.**

**Http: / www. imdb . com/ media /rm697597952/nm3432881**

**He's looking extra blond there. JUST HOW I LIKE THEM.**

**Anyway. Um, I'm trying to crank out as many chapters as I can before next season (and school D:) starts. I hope y'all don't mind.**

**

* * *

**

Sam blinks and then blinks again.

That was the most strange-ass thing ever, he is thinking. Amusing, but strange-ass nonetheless.

He watches as Rachel, cheeks red with fury, shoots up from her seat. "As a child raised by two gay fathers I object to this clear act of homophobia!" she announces.

Faith turns to Rachel, puzzled. "It wasn't homophobic. I'm not homophobic."

"Clearly, you need to look up the meaning on Webster's Online Dictionary," the brunette snaps back. "This little announcement you made not only offends the homosexuals and bisexuals in the room, but my undoubtably wonderful dads and I will not let such ignorance continue!"

Faith looks taken aback. "But it's the Bible's words."

"If everything in the Bible were to apply to the present then fathers would still be selling their daughters into slavery, people would be stoned for wearing articles of clothing made of two different threads, and—oh, don't try to stop me, Mr. Schue—Faith, I hope you aren't experiencing your monthly gift because if you are then you might as well go ahead and go find a shack to live in away from society!"

"Rachel, Rachel," Mr. Schuester tries.

Faith pouts. "Rachel, you don't understand. I _not _being hateful—,"

"And she ignores Rachel's point just like a good ol' fundamentalist," Sam says offhandedly.

"—I want to _help _Kurt," Faith preaches. "If he doesn't repeat he'll go to hell!"

"Oh _hell_ no!" Mercedes stands up, pointing at Faith. "You listen here, lil' Miss Carrie Underwood, if you think I'm gonna sit her while you smack talk my boy Kurt. I'll slap you silly—"

Sam doesn't pay attention anymore. Instead he looks at Kurt who is looking at his Something-Or-Another-And-Banana boots, teary-eyed and embarrassed.

Sam pokes Kurt and Kurt looks up, swatting Sam's hand away.

"What?" he asks in a cracked voice.

_Are you alright? I mean, you shouldn't by into Faith's crap_, he wants to say.

"If I slushie you, would you prefer grape or cherry?" comes out instead.

Kurt gives him a look. "_Excuse _me?"

"I mean, we're in Glee Club together now . . . I wanted to, y'know, lay you some. . ." Sam feels stupid. "Some slack."

"Um, thanks," Kurt says, clearly irritated. "And neither. I like raspberry."

Sam half-smiles. "Raspberry it is."

"Kurt!"

They both look ahead to see the rest gazing at them.

"Kurt!" Faith repeats, kneeling in front of him and taking his face in her hands. "Kurt, you know I do like you and I know you're just very, very confused and you know I'm just trying to help so God will welcome you into His Kingdom, right? _Right?_" Her eyebrows at knitted together—she looks awfully desperate.

Kurt sighs. He takes her hands and slowly lowers them from his face. "Faith, I'm proud of who I am. And you're free to believe in anything you want, but don't think you can force those beliefs on me. I am who I am and I'm not going to change just because of what others think."

Faith squeaks.

"Well spoken, Kurt," Rachel says with a grin. Kurt smiles half-heartedly back.

"Okay, guys," Mr. Schuester breaks in, "I'm feeling some tension here." He claps his hands together. "And what do we do when we want to let off steam?"

"Play football," Finn says.

"Have sex," Puck says.

"Watch Oprah," Kurt says.

"Hide my diary from my cat," Brittany says.

"We sing," Rachel says last.

"Correct as always, Rachel" the teacher says. "We sing. And I insist that Rachel and Faith do just that."

"Like a diva-off?" Rachel says.

Mr. Schuester considers. "Sort of."

"What's a diva-off?" Faith questions, getting back onto her feet. "It sounds inappropriate."

"It's when we sing the same song—a small contest—Kurt and I had one that year," Rachel explains. "I won."

Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Yes," Mr. Schuester says, "except this time we won't vote. It'll be more of a venting duet. Now, any ideas?"

"I say that we do _What is This Feeling? _to follow the Wicked theme we did last year," Rachel states.

"Sounds good, Rach. That fine with you, Faith?" the teacher asks.

"Of course," Faith says.

"Well then, Brad, let's start." He points to the piano man. Rachel and Faith move to opposite sides of the room.

"I'm Elphaba," Rachel declares. "The misunderstood, yet lovable character. You're Glinda—the annoying one."

Faith says, "Fine. Ahem." She inhales and exhales. "_Dearest, darlingest Momsie and Popsicle._"

"_My dear father_," Rachel says.

They both start to sing, "_There's been some confusion over rooming here at Shiz_."

"_But of course I'll care for Nessa_," Rachel sings.

"_But of course, I'll rise above it_!" Faith sings.

Both: "_For I know that's how you'd want me to respond, yes. There's been some confusion for you see my roommate is_..."

Faith looks at Rachel. "_Unusually and exceedingly peculiar and altogether quite impossible to __describe_..."

Rachel glares. "_Blonde_."

"_What is this feeling, so sudden,and new?" _

"_I felt the moment I laid eyes on you."_

"_My pulse is rushing." _

"_My head is reeling." _

"_My face is flushing." _

Both sing, "_What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame, does it have a name? Yes—_

_Loathing! Unadulterated loathing!"_

Faith sneers, "_For your face_."

Rachel states, "_Your voice_."

"_Your clothing!_"

They look away and start to sing in union:

"_Let's just say, I loath it all! Every little trait how ever small makes my very flesh begin to crawl with simple utter loathing! There's a strange exhilaration!_

_In such total detestation. It's so pure, so strong! Though I do admit, it came on fast, _

_still I do believe that it can last. And I will be loahing, loathing you my whole life long!" _

_What is this feeling, so sudden and new? _

_I felt the moment I laid eyes on you. _

_My pulse is rushing, my head is reeling. _

_Oh, what is this feeling? _

_Does it have a name? Yes, ahhhhh ... loathing! _

_There's a strange exhilaration, in such total detestation, it's so pure, so strong! _

_Though I do admit, it came on fast, still I do believe that it can last! _

_And I will be loathing for forever, loathing, truly deeply loathing you, my whole life long!"_

**

* * *

Today's first Glee Club meeting has commenced. **

As Kurt rushes out of the club room, hand clutching his Prada satchel, eyes focused ahead of him and nothing else. Mercedes tries to keep up from behind.

"Kurt!" she shouts. "Boy, slow down!"

Finn is there too. "Hey, Kurt!"

Kurt stops and swerves around. "What?" he manages weakly.

"Oh, so you listen to _him_," Mercedes mutters.

"Kurt, you alright, man?" Finn asks. "That—that was bad back there. She was being a total douche. I would so beat her up, 'cept she's a girl so I can't."

"Why can't you?" Tina says, appearing from nowhere. "Are you saying women are weak or something."

"N-nothing, I just mean, um—"

"Save it, Finn." Kurt sighs. "I'm fine."

"You were about to cry during that Jesus number." It's Sam, who also seemed to come from nowhere. "Faith's a lunatic, but Barbio sure did own her ass. Oh, Barbio," the blond says in a dreamy voice.

"I don't even want to know," Mercedes says, shaking her head.

"Yes, for once I was quite glad for Rachel's existence," Kurt admits.

"They're probably having a cat fight with their tops off right now," Sam says. "In pudding."

"Oh," Finn says, "do you think I should go check on Rachel?"

"No, let them cat fight with their tops off in pudding," Sam argues. "Besides, we're supposed to go over to your house and practice are songs."

"We are?" Finn asks. "I don't remember that."

"Well, I just reminded you, so tally ho!" Sam grabs Finn's arm and whisks in away down the hall. "Dude, you should probably lead. . . ."

Kurt squints. "I can't believe that just happened."

"I think they make cute besties," Tina says.

"Not that," Kurt says, "the Faith thing."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, Kurt."

Kurt bits his lip.

"We could go on a shopping spree," Mercedes suggests with a hopeful smile.

"No, I can't. I'm depressed."

"But shopping sprees are your favorite cure for depression. It's like comfort food to you!"

"I just want to go home and drown myself in a bubble bath," Kurt says. "Sorry, Cedes."

"Okay, Kurt," Mercedes sighs. "Do whatever makes you happy."

"Except for literally drowning yourself in bubbles. Don't do that," Tina adds.

"Yeah, keep that metaphorical."

"I will." Kurt attempts a smile. "I promise." He heaves his satchel up onto his shoulder, turns around, and sulks away to his car.

**

* * *

A/N: Sorry for typos, grammar, and stuff that just don't make sense, yo.**

**Next chapter WE WILL VENTURE INTO HETEROSEXUAL TERRITORY (but not with Kurt, oh hell no.) And maybe Sam's family life, but that will probably be the chapter after next chapter. We'll see. **

**Random note of the day: People who write Kurt/Girl should feel guilty. But, it's okay, I ship ChrisDianna. ANYWHO.**

**Not reviewing makes Brittany cry. :( **


	6. Chapter 6

**Rating: T for language and sexuality **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. God knows why Ryan Murphy would be writing fan fiction for his own show in the disguise of a 15-year-old fag-hag. **

**FF. net, get a flippin' "Sam E." option on here, gosh darn it. This is new character discrimination. Don't make me call up Rachel's gay dads in here. (...I don't even know who some of these people are on the list. Rumba? Rod? Jean? Grace? Lolwhat?) **

**Also, in a Teen Choice Award interview Chord Overstreet said his character is named "Sam Evans" (not Elliot) and is a "transfer student." Anyway.**

**Finn probably has a new room by now, but whatever. The shared room makes things more awkward for them, humorous for us people. **

* * *

When Kurt enters the through his front door Burt says, "Welcome home, Kurt."

"Hi, Dad."

Burt away from the television to his son. "You alright?"

"Yes, Dad."

His father squints. "No you're not."

"Okay, I'm not."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Obviously not."

Burt stares at his son for a moment. "You know, Kurt, if you ever need someone to—"

"Dad." Kurt gives him an exasperated look. "Can we not talk about this right now? I just want to go to my room, relax, and listen to my RENT soundtrack on repeat."

"Okay. . ." Burt watches as his son heads towards his basement-turned-bedroom and adds, "Oh, and, Kurt, Finn has a friend over. On the football team—I've never seen him before so . . . So, I just want you to be careful. You know what I mean."

"Yeah, Dad." Kurt nods. "Great, just what I need," he mutters under his breath. He places his hand on the doorknob and starts to twist it—he freezes. "Oh, wait. It's Sam."

"Who?" Burt asks.

"Sam Evans—some new guy. He won't mess with me. At least, I think so. He's actually rather considerate. He asked what slushie flavor I preferred. A gentleman, really."

"Now, wait a second, if this guy—"

"Dad. It's fine." Kurt opens the door to the basement he shares with Finn and makes his way down the stairs.

* * *

"So for our first performance I was thinking Britney Spears. She's provocative," Sam suggests.

"Um," Finn says.

"Or," Sam says, twirling around in Kurt's vanity station's chair, "we go country."

Finn makes a face.

"Or not." Sam stops and picks up a Victoria Secret's tube of lip balm. "Dude, you're really gay."

"What?"

"I mean, there's that side"—Sam points to Finn's side of the room—"and then there's this side." He gestures at Kurt's side. "Do you have an alter ego I don't know about? Are you schizophrenic?"

"No," Finn argues, frowning, "that's Kurt's side."

Sam blinks. "Kurt's side?"

"Yep."

"You live with Kurt? Oh my God . . . You got married didn't you? In Canada? I think sixteen-year-olds can get married—Finn! This is big news!"

"Shut up, man. We are not married. He's practically my step-brother. Our parents are together," Finn explains.

"I know—well, I didn't _know_, because I don't stalk you or anything—but I figured it was something like that," Sam says, putting the lip balm down to squirt some hand lotion and smell it. "This smells like dog fart. Want to smell it?" He offers his hand out.

"No thanks, man." Finn purses his lip, staring at the wall and then back to the other boy. "You're kinda . . . weird."

"Says the man married to a male soprano who strikingly resembles an eleven-year-old milkmaid." Sam frowns. He wipes the lotion off on Kurt's bedspread.

"You were acting really weird in the locker room yesterday, too," Finn adds.

Sam rolls his eyes, cringing a little at the though. "Well. . .you hardly know me. Maybe that's normal."

"You looked . . . flustered."

"Finn." Sam gets up and sits on the bed beside him. "It's called teenage hormones."

". . .We were in the locker room. Full of guys," Finn says slowly.

Sam eyes widen. "Um, about that. I was having a sex dream. You know when you dream when you're awake? It was a sex day dream." He grins. "About women," he adds. "Covered in guacamole. Because I like guacamole."

"Not to interrupt you when you're having such an _intellectual_ conversation, but would you two be so kind to get off my bed?"

The both turn around to see Kurt standing by the staircase, eyebrows quirked.

"What did you hear of said intellectual conversation?" Sam asks as Finn gets up.

"'It was a sex day dream about women covered in guacamole.' Because apparently you like guacamole," Kurt says in an unamused voice. "Now, if you could please remove yourself from my bed."

"Sure." Sam gets up and stands there awkwardly. Kurt walks over, shooing Sam away as he does so, and sits down. He reaches for his iPod and plugs his earphones into his ears. "What are you listening to?"

Kurt sighs. "_Seasons of Love_ from the Broadway production of RENT."

"Cool." Sam sits beside Finn. "What's RENT?"

"An spectacular musical." He glances at Sam. "Now can you be quiet and let me be?"

"Are you—,"

"Sam," Finn whispers, placing a hand on his friend's arm, "when Kurt's in a PMSing mood like this it's best to leave him alone. I know from experience."

Sam waves Finn's hand off. "Are you pissy because of today with Faith?"

"Sam," Finn warns.

Kurt presses pause on his iPod. "I don't see how that's any of your business."

"I figured it was Glee Club's business."

"Sam, I don't even know you. You're invading my personal life. It's rude."

"I was invited."

"I'm not talking about coming over, I'm talking about what happened with Faith."

"But that happened in front of us _all._"

"Sam," Finn repeats.

"I'm just trying to be helpful," Sam snaps. He looks at Kurt. "Not every jock would try to talk to the school's fag about his problems. Not all jocks are assholes."

Kurt glares at him. "Well, you defiantly aren't contributing to your point," he states bitterly.

Sam pauses. "You're not the only one that was offended by Faith's performance."

Kurt furrows his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Brittany and Santana were probably offended to," Sam says, swallowing.

"Oh," Kurt says.

There's an awkward silence.

Sam gets up. "I think I should go. Maybe you should come to my house next time we want to rehearse."

"Sam, you don't have to—," Fine starts.

"I do, actually." He gives Kurt a fake grin "I don't think I'm welcome here." He frowns and then turns to head up the stairs.

Burt glances up when he passes. "Oh, hey, you leaving already?"

Sam smiles at the older man. "Yeah, Mr. Hummel. I have a faith group meeting I must attend. _Shalom_."

* * *

Sam slams the door behind him.

He stands there, glaring at her. "That was a real shitty thing you did back there in Glee Club."

Faith looks at him like she's hurt.

"Glee Club?" It's his mom—blond, pretty, dressed prim and proper like a good Christian. "Why were you at Glee Club with Faith?"

Sam opens his mouth then closes it.

"Sam's in Glee Club too, Mrs. Evans," Faith puts in. Sam wants to dip her in scalding guacamole.

"Really?" His mother seems surprised and unsure.

"What are we talking about?" His father comes in with a big grin on his face. He kisses his wife on the cheek. "Honey, the folks are getting hungry in there."

"I'm almost done with the cookies," his mother says. "Sam was just telling us about Glee Club."

"I was not," Sam denies.

His dad's face contorts. "You're in Glee Club? What is that? Singing?"

"And dancing," Faith chirps. "It's dandy."

"Sam," his dad says sternly, "what's meaning of this?"

Sam folds his arms. "It has to have a _meaning_?"

"Deborah, why don't you go check on those cookies?" his father says. "Go help her, Faith."

The two nod in obedience and leave the foyer.

Sam would describe his father's expression as "seriously pissed."

"Sam, what hell is this Glee Club stuff about? What about football?"

"I'm still playing football."

"Yeah, and this will get in the way of that—_Glee Club_? Sam, that's for girls and faggots."

Sam scoffs. "No, it's not, Dad. You don't know shit. There's only one gay guy. The rest are mostly on my team."

"So there are gays," his father drones. "I don't want my son in that kind of environment."

"Don't talk to me ask if I'm not here."

His father points at him threateningly. "Sam, you're not going to be in this damn fruit fest. You're a Peyton Manning, not an Elton John."

Sam stares at his father, shaking his head slightly. "I'm not a circle, Dad. There's more than one side to me." He turns and strides through the living room, past all the picture perfect families in their faith group with their stupid friendliness and their stupid innocence and stupid stupidness.

"Oh, Sam! We were just about to discuss Jesus'—"

"Fuck Jesus," Sam says. He opens the screen door to the backyard and hikes out to the old tire swing that hangs on one of the big oaks in his backyard. He sits down and relaxing, cooling off the steam. He inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales—his phone beeps—he inhales, he exhales.

He pulls his phone from his pocket. It's a text message.

_ hey sam i dont no if u no but i sort of like to keep a full record and ur kind of the only guy i havent made out with yet so just let me know if u want to tap this. I wish I knew how to do a smily face..._

_ -brittany or britney. i forgot how u spell it _

"Sam?"

He doesn't look up when he hears his mother.

"Sam, we're discussing Jesus' childhood with John the Baptist. Don't you want to come in, honey?"

"No." He slides the phone back into his pocket. "No, actually, I have a friend to meet up with."

* * *

**A/N: Sam, you stole that one line from Kurt and tweaked it to make it sound stupid. Geez.**

**Um, so I lied. No heterosexualness in this chapter. **

**I whole time I was writing this I felt like it sucked. Sorry if it sucks. And sorry for typos, grammar errors, and the like.**

**Faith and Sam's families are in the same faith group, in case you didn't catch on. They're not, like, siblings or anything. **

**I have nothing witty to say. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Warning: Sexual content and language **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, gosh darn it. Shut up.**

**A/N: I feel left out. All the other fics about Sam/Kurt involve Sam as a set up for Finn/Kurt or Puck/Kurt or Whatever-the-hell-you-ship/Kurt. Due to peer pressure this fic will probably turn into Kurt leaving Sam because he(Samual, that is) is a raging alcoholic who only wants sex and says things like "that shit was so cash" therefor Kurt dumps him after Sam attempts to have the football team gang bang in the showers, somehow or another ending in a Finn/Puck/Kurt/Whatever-the-hell-you-ship gay orgy thing. And Sam will then commit arrested and commit suicide. I mean, that's all the Sam/Kurt fics rolled up into one sexy plot line.**

**Sam: Okay, no, bitch. **

**Me: Fine.**

**(I do love Kinn though. A couple days ago I was like, "meh" but now I'm like jdjdsklajflkshflsdh;;; LOVE.) **

**It's 2:22 in the morning as I write this. I AM NOT WELL RIGHT NOW. **

**Jesus, why do I ramble so much.**

**

* * *

**

This is awkward.

Here he is with a slutty blond cheerleading heck of a woman draped over him—horny as hell—eager to strip him of his clothing and seize his vital regions and all he can think is, _this is awkward_. Sam recounts that getting down and dirty with sexy women has never been awkward before. He also recounts that he doesn't get down and dirty with sexy women all that much.

Or at all.

When exactly was the last time he got down and dirty with a sexy woman?

Oh, yeah, Becky Tinkers, sixth grade. That was awkward. But he blamed the awkwardness on the fact they were, like, twelve, for God's sake and lacked pubic hair. He figured having sex before you've even reached the age of growing pubic hair was just the definition of awkwardness and that was that. Obviously there's more to it. However, he must stop thinking about it because the thought of naked twelve-year-olds and pubic hair does not help with the awkwardness at hand.

Or maybe this is the punishment of _Our Lord Jesus Christ_.

_"HELLO, SAMUEL CORNELIUS EVANS, THOU SHALT NOT FORNIFICATE BEFORE MARRIAGE. I SHALL NOW BESTOW UPON YOU THE FEELING OF AWKWARDNESS AS A PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR SIN," _Jesus would say.

"But, Jesus, my middle name is Christopher!"

Nah.

Maybe the situation is just awkward because of who he's with—a slutty blond cheerleading heck of a woman.

It could be because A) he isn't attracted to sluttiness B) he isn't attracted to blonds C) he isn't attracted to cheerleaders or D) he isn't attract to . . . Brittanys.

_Yeah_, Sam thinks, _that's probably it._

Sam feels more or less like a creeper as he watches Finn and Rachel converse in the hallway, but that's okay because Finn and Rachel are even creepy.

That's a lie.

They're sort of perfect, Sam thinks. The perfect couple—image—thing. It's annoying and it makes him jealous. He figures he has some deep-down-emotion-longing for a perfect life—like in the movies, and books too, he guesses, but he doesn't read. His life sucks, his parents suck, Brittany sucks—a good kind of suck, a suck that does not turn him on, but it's a suck that he's sure other boys would quite enjoy.

But basically what he's seeing doesn't suck—suck's for him—but not for Finn and Rachel.

Know he knows why he wants Rachel.

Because she's the reason Finn doesn't suck (metaphorically and literally.)

* * *

**Glee Club Meeting Today in the Club Room After School.**

"Okay, guys, you know how we cover other artists songs and make them are own?" Mr. Schuester asks the class.

"Oh really, I haven't noticed," Quinn says.

"Well, I was sitting down last night, watching TV, plotting against Carl—um, watching TV when _Moulin Rouge! _comes on. Then it came to me: why don't we do a cover of a cover?"

Rachel perks up. "_El Tango de Roxanne_," she states.

The teacher points at her. "Just what I was thinking." He then turns his attention to Finn and Sam. "You two are up."

The stage is dark and Sam can't see anything. He knows that he and Finn are looking suave in black tuxes and Rachel is looking glamorous for once—sexy even—in her bright, bright red tango dress. But that's about it. He wishes he could see, he believes God gave him eyeballs for a reason.

He sniffs.

His nerves are making him think like a pansy.

Okay, one, two, three, go.

Go.

The music should have started by now.

Go, go, go. The awkwardness of last week is coming back—the music starts; the lights snap on—oh, hallelujah. The awkwardness simmers out.

His eyeballs work again.

One, two, three, go.

"We have a dance!" Sam says, as he and Rachel saunter towards each other. She doesn't look like Rachel at all with her bright red lipstick and all her dark hair topped on her head in a neat bun. She looks like a prostitute—which he guesses fits.

A pretty prostitute.

"In the brothels of Buenos Aries tells the story of a prostitute. And a man . . . who falls in love . . . with her." The two start to circle around each other slowly, their faces dangerously close. "Then . . . passion! Then . . . suspicion! Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal! Where love is for the highest bidder, there can be no trust! Without trust,

There is no love! Jealousy. Yes, jealousy . . . will drive you . . ." He looks at the audience and shouts, "mad!"

"_Rox_"—he turns back to Rachel and suddenly dips her—"_anne_!" He yanks her back up and they start a tango like dance.

"_You don't have to put on that red light_

_Walk the streets for money_

_You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right!"_

The dance, Sam thinks, is very saucy. Which is what he wants, he planned it to go like this.

"_Roxanne_

_You don't have to wear that dress tonight_

_Roxanne_

_You don't have to sell your body to the night!"_

Then there is Finn. He stands in the back, covered in shadows. Slowly, he begins to step out into the light. His voice looks actually concerned, as if this is real. He sings,

"_His eyes upon your face_

_His hand upon your hand_

_His lips caress your skin_

_It's more than I can stand!"_

_"Roxanne!"_ Sam sings.

_"Why does my heart cry?"_ Finn sings.

"_Roxanne!"_

"_Feelings I can't fight_

_You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me_

_And please believe me when I say I love you!"_

_ "Roxanne!"_

_ "Why does my heart cry?"_

_ "Roxanne!"_

_ "Feelings I can't fight!"_

_ "Roxanne!"_

_ "You don't have to put on that red light! Roxanne!"

* * *

_

"Dude!" Finn says after Glee Club. "That was—that was—what was that?"

Sam turns and quirks an eyebrow. "What was what?"

"_That_!"

"Specificity never hurt anyone, Finn."

"I mean, you took that way too far, man!"

Sam purses his lips. "What to far? Finn, sense you make not."

"Wha. . ."

"I'm sorry, I forgot you're kind of an idiot. Um, please explain what it is you're ranting about."

"Um, the . . . The Roxanne Tango."

"El Tango de Roxanne?"

"Yes, that!"

"What about it?"

"You were way to into it," Finn explains. ". . . All over Rachel."

"Was not."

"Was too."

Sam a wave, shaking his head while looking down. "Finn, I'm not going to play this game." He glances back up. "Besides, I had a revelation back there."

"A reve—what?""

"I realized that I'm good. I'm freakin' good. Great even." He smirks. "And I kind of don't need you anymore."

"Don't need me? Don't need me for what?"

"For everything. I don't need a mentor. I mean, what would be the point of me having a mentor that's less talented than myself."

"Sam, what the hell are you saying—"

"And you know what? Rachel was all over me too."

Finn doesn't reply. He just sits there with one of his usual dopey faces and Sam doesn't want to look at it.

He leaves, feeling badass.

**

* * *

A/N: Sorry if this sounds like it was written by a drunk person. I'm on writer's block. (Sorry for typos and what not.)**

**ALSO. How is Finn going to discover Sam's singing talent? In the shower. (Says spoilers.) I so called this. I was going to do it in this fanfic but thought it'd be too cliché. Dang.**

**ALSO AGAIN. There was, like, no Kurt in this chapter. Gross.**

**. . . Tomorrow is my first day of school. Yay. *saracastic-gay-limp-wrist-motion***

"_Don't cry for me, Argentina—AAAND I'MMM TELLIN' YOU." -Chris Colfer_


	8. It's gonna happen, HAPPEN SOME TIME

SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED. SORRY SORRY SORRY.

BUT GUYS I'M SO HAPPY. I'M HAPPY. SO HAPPY.

SAM: WHY MAY I ASK?

ME: WELL HERE'S A LITTLE HINT:

Ryan Murphy: Kurt's getting a bf! :D

Us: OMFG YAY :D

Rumors: It's Sam. It's Sam. It's Sam. Who's played by Chord Overstreet.

Us: WHOOT~! :D (or NOOO)

RM: Kurt's boyfriend hasn't been cast yet.

Us: WTF! D: -angst (or celebrates) for a month or so-

RM: LOLJK.

SAM: I don't get it.

ME: STOP BEING DUMB, YOU'RE NOT FINN—IT MEANS YOU'RE GOING TO BE KURT'S BOYFRIEND AFTERALL, MOTHERFUCKER.

Sam: Oh. OH. HELL YES. 8D

Guys.

Spazzing asides, Jane Lynch announced this.

Die happy now.


	9. Chapter 8

**T for Language**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anyone except my version of Sam . . . I guess. **

**A/N: So. Happy.

* * *

**

Quinn has her eyes set on Sam Evans. He's a jock, he's attractive, he comes from somewhere other than crappy Lima, Ohio. A perfect match for the former—no—_upcoming_ HBIC.

So she approaches him.

"You like Rachel?" she questions him.

"What?" Sam turns around from his locker and stares at her. "What do you mean?"

"You were all over her."

"That's what Finn said."

"Finn is right . How uncharacteristic." Sam blinks and Quinn continues. "So you like her."

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I don't_ like_ her. I just want her."

Quinn purses her lips.

"I don't like Barbio," Sam finishes surely.

The blond girl tilts her head and smiles in amusement. "I think you want to be like Finn, but I also think you're deeply confused about Finn's position. He isn't cool. The puckheads give him crap along with the rest of the glee club. If anything Berry is his biggest screw up."

"Really?"

"Really." She grins again. "You're stupid, not Finn stupid, a different sort of stupid, but still stupid."

Sam frowns. "What are you trying to say?"

"I'm _saying _we should get together."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Sam says, holding his hands up in defense.

"Dating the Head Bitch in Charge—"

"The Queen Bee?"

"Yes—"

"Santana?"

"No—"

"I didn't think so, she's pretty gay."

"Sam, shut up. What I'm saying is I'm not the HBIC yet, that's true. But," she declares, holding up a finger., "with my baby fat gone, my new Cheerios uniform back, and a guy like _you_ on my arm. I could make the idea of Santana being in charge all a mere fairy tale."

"You're so dramatic," Sam says.

"Says the man who performed _El Tango de Roxanne _with _Rachel Fucking Berry_," she retorts.

"I guess we're alike in a way," he says. "We're both blond."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "So," she asks, "what do you say?"

* * *

_ "Let's get together, yeah yeah yeah!"_

It was glee time again. Sam, once again and to Finn's chagrin, was the male lead, while Quinn surprisingly sang by his side as the female lead. Rachel sat there with a sour face. The rest just stared at them questionably—not without some amusement.

_Why don't you and I combine? _

_Let's get together, what do you say?_

_We can have a swinging time. _

_We'd be a crazy team. _

_Why don't we make a scene? Together._

_Oh, oh, oh, oh _

_Let's get together, yeah yeah yeah. _

_Think of all that we could share. _

_Let's get together, everyday _

_Every way and everywhere. _

_And though we haven't got a lot, _

_We could be sharing all we've got. Together._

_Oh! I really think you're swell._

_Uh huh! We really ring the bell. _

_Oo wee! And if you stick with me _

_Nothing could be greater, say hey, alligator._

_Let's get together, yeah yeah yeah. _

_Two is twice as nice as one. _

_Let's get together, right away._

_We'll be having twice the fun. _

_And you can always count on me._

_A gruesome twosome we will be. _

_Together, yeah yeah yeah!

* * *

_

They all stare at Sam and Quinn holding hands in the hallway.

"So they're, like, together?" Tina wonders aloud.

"I would say so," Kurt sighs, rummaging through his brand-spanking new leather Gucci satchel.

"Bitch," Santana hisses.

"Whore," Puck sneers.

"Someone's jealous," Kurt quips. "Oh, here it is." He holds up a pack of low calorie pack of Oreo cookies. The kind that taste like crap. "Do you think Finn likes these?"

"I wouldn't know," Mercedes says. "Why?"

"No reason."

"Ooh, Mystery Man."

"There really isn't."

"Mmhmm."

* * *

Kurt returns to the club room to find Finn slouching in one of the chairs with his signature dopey expression just as Kurt expected.

"Why, hello there, Finn Hudson."

The Frankenteen looks up. "Oh, hey, Kurt."

Kurt smiles and makes his way over, sitting himself down by the taller boy. "I brought you Oreos."

"Really? Thanks. Oh, these are those low calorie kind. They taste like crap."

"Yes, I know, but it's all I have to give."

"Oh—well, thanks anyway."

"There's something wrong."

"Yeah, the Oreos suck."

"No, I mean, other than that, Finn."

"There's nothing wrong," Finn says, looking away.

"There is."

"No."

"And it's Sam."

Finn turns to him. "How did you know?"

"Because I know these things." He straightens up. "It's Kurtin fashion."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Explain. What's with you and Sam? He seems like a deluding person."

"What does 'deluding' mean?"

"Finn."

"Sorry. It's just—he's just—I don't know. He used to be—be, like, my fan. Now he's sort of my competition," Finn explains.

"Competition for what?"

"I don't know, everything. He _confronted_ me."

"Confronted?"

"Yes—confronted—cornered—he basically told me he was better than me."

"Really?" Kurt quirks an eyebrow.

"He's going to steal Rachel."

Kurt snorts. "I exceedingly doubt that."

"First Quinn, then Rachel. Just like me," Finn says, vaguely resembling a lost puppy.

"No."

"Ye—"

"No, Finn, no. One does not degrade themselves from Quinn to Rachel—no offense."

"Offense taken, Rachel's not that bad when she's not in insane mode."

"Finn, she's _always_ in insane mode."

"Not really, you just don't know her like I do."

"I don't _want_ to know her like you do," Kurt snaps, cringing. "But look on the bright side—it looks like Mr. Schue had a new favorite male lead."

Finn gives him a look. "But—Kurt, look, don't tell anyone, but I _like _singing."

"Oh, I know you like singing. Don't think that all that stuff that I put in my hair results in me being an idiot, because I'm not. I just think this might be a good opportunity for someone else to take the spotlight for once. For _once_, Finn."

"I guess."

Kurt uncrosses and recrosses his legs. "And maybe Faith will give Rachel a run for her crucifix."

"That would really tick Rachel off," Finn argues.

Kurt sighs dreamily. "Yeah." There's a silence. He blinks. "Anyway," he says, getting up, "things will get better. Don't worry about it. Whatever Sam says, he's till just a neophyte. You're a pro. You're the one Rachel will always love." He considers for a moment. "Well, at least until we graduate, anyway."

"Wait. What?" Finn stares up at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

"Kurt—"

Kurt grins and gives a little wave, backing out of the room. "Don't worry about it."


End file.
